


Warmth

by LdotRage (ObliviousInsomniac)



Series: ZeLink Week [5]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Fluff, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviousInsomniac/pseuds/LdotRage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ZeLink Week Day 5: Warmth.<br/>Zelda starts having strange dreams about a boy in green when she's six years old. When she's eleven, she sees him for the first time, and that's when she remembers everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

_"Please, don't send me back! I need to stay here with you! I don't **belong** there anymore!"_

_"You have to go. It's only your right..."_

_"It's my right to decide!"_

_"A chance you never got back then! Don't you see I can give you your childhood back, Link?"_

_"Maybe I don't **want** my childhood back!"_

_"Well, maybe you **need** it back, whether or not you **want** it!"_

_A moment of silence as their shouts echo away. Panting, heaving breaths. Eyes boring into each other, each silently letting the other know that this was non-negotiable._

_"Come with me."_

_More silence; this more stunned than challenging._

_"...What?"_

_"Didn't you lose your childhood, too? Weren't you forced into this war just as much as I was, simply because of our 'destinies' being intertwined?"_

_"L-Link..."_

**_"Don't you deserve to be happy, too?!"_ **

_Silence once more. She had no response to that, but no response was just as good as any._

_There were no more words exchanged. Only a very long, labored silence, then a soft, slow, almost sorrowful melody that seemed to echo back despite them being in wide open space._

_And then_ —

What do you wish for, child?

_There was no silence this time; no hesitation._

_"Bring us back. Let us have our childhood. Let us live in a world without the threat of Ganondorf."_

_And the Goddess of Time laughed softly, reaching down to the earth._

As you wish, my child. I suppose you deserve as much.

_The song finished itself despite there being no one there to play it, running along a metronome of a clock's ticking, and then there was only silence._

* * *

She couldn't explain it.

Sure, she knew full well that something very strange was going on here, so she supposed this shouldn't have been her primary concern. But, in the end, emotions were the hardest things to manipulate using magic, so it was important for her to know how and _why_ he was doing this to her.

Because there could be no other logical explanation except for some sort of interference on his part. Even if she had never heard of a magic that powerful, much less one that could be wielded by such a young boy—he was younger than _she_ was, for Din's sake, and she had people on her case all the time, reminding her that she was just a child and not to push herself, even if she _was_ actually having prophetic dreams, which most of them didn't believe anyway.

In her dreams, she had seen darkness and light struggling for dominance over each other. Watching in that sort of neutral impartiality only present in dreams, she had witnessed the darkness pushing back the light, almost defeating it; almost _corrupting_ it, even. And then, out of nowhere, a man clad in a green tunic had appeared, battling the darkness back, and suddenly her fly-on-the-wall position was interrupted. By the time she looked down at herself, more than a little baffled, she had been transfigured into a much older version of herself, carrying a graceful blue ocarina in her gloved hands.

 _'What's going on?'_ she had thought fearfully, the realization that she was dreaming hitting her like a rolling Goron. She had experienced lucid dreams before, and even lucid prophetic dreams: neither tended to end well. The last time, she'd been dreaming an oddly vivid scene of being encased in a pink crystal, looking out at the pink-tinted world and seeing a man in black reach towards her, hand clamping around her wrist—it had been so hyper-realistic that she had woken up the next morning with vague bruises on her pale wrists. Impa had been concerned, but had warned her not to tell her father, who had lately been treating his daughter like a schizophrenic despite her dreams often being fulfilled in the end.

It had taken her a moment to realize that she was in control of herself this time, unlike the last time. At least, she _thought_ she was in control, but, thinking back on it... where had all those strange actions been coming from? They certainly weren't her own decisions, yet the idea of doing anything else was physically painful, like a fist to the gut. _'Play the Ocarina,'_ she remembered her mind urging, sounding like a slightly deeper and steadier version of her own voice. "Why?" she had asked, but she got no reply, and she hadn't really waited for one before bringing the instrument up to her mouth and—she couldn't even play the ocarina, what on earth?—an unfamiliar yet strikingly nostalgic melody left it.

She had seen the green-clad man's face for only an instant before the light engulfed him, and then they both were gone in a burst of brilliance.

This time, when Zelda woke up, the feelings of horror that these dreams usually left her with were absent. Instead, she realized with a note of surprise, she felt content with what had just transpired, save the little voice speaking in her ear without words: _you have to remember, you cannot forget, he mustn't be left alone this time._

An image of the green-clad man appeared blurrily in her mind, quickly replaced by an even blurrier form of a green-clad boy, who she assumed was probably the same man. And she probably should've run to Impa immediately and recounted the dream while it was still fresh in her mind, but Zelda couldn't help but drift back into a peaceful slumber as warmth spread throughout her, leaving her with the memory of a young boy's laughter as she closed her eyes.

Predictably, Impa listened raptly to her explanation of what she had seen the next morning. After Zelda was finished, she stared down blankly at her porridge, which was all she could stomach right now—even with that lingering feeling of _all is well, all is well,_ she hadn't forgotten the last part of the dream, delivered while she was awake.

_You have to remember._

_You cannot forget._

_He mustn't be left alone this time._

But how was she meant to recall something that had never even happened to her?

Impa's advice was not to dwell on it too much. "I can tell the accuracy of your visions by just looking at you, even if you hadn't been right a few times before," she admitted gruffly, crossing her arms, "but we Sheikah have always been able to tell when darkness is brewing, and, right now, it is not. At the very least, that means we have plenty of time before your prophecies are fulfilled." She paused, then added with that tiny half-smile she got sometimes, "Besides, you shouldn't have to worry about this at your age, Princess."

Zelda usually hated it when people said that, but Impa wasn't exactly a coddling type, so she reluctantly yielded, knowing that, if even Impa thought she was too young, she probably was.

That didn't mean she should be treated like a six-year-old, though. She was very nearly seven by now!

 _Eighteen, eighteen,_ some voice in the back of her head whispered, but she forgot the words as soon as they appeared.

* * *

It wasn't until age ten that anything substantial happened.

The mark had come unexpectedly while she was climbing trees out back with Impa, the white-haired Sheikah giving her pointers after getting a promise not to tell anyone out of the Princess. If her father knew just how she was being raised, he would be more than outraged enough to make sure Impa and Zelda were never on the same continent again.

Hiking up her skirt a little, Zelda had giggled despite herself; although she had at first found it hard to hoist herself up without skinning her knees, the action now felt ingrained into her, like a reflex rather than a struggle. Although she would, of course, never admit it, Impa was looking rather impressed with how quickly Zelda had picked it up. For a Hylian, that was impressive, even if the Sheikah were held to much higher standards.

Zelda had been reaching for the next branch with her left hand, hanging on to her current branch with her right, when the pain hit. Without warning, red-hot knives began to carve pictures on the back of her right hand; fire was licking up her wrist; her fingers were singing and crumbling to ash. Within an instant, she had gone from jovial and carefree to screaming. In a blind panic, she released the tree completely to clutch her right hand to her chest, but the pain was so intense that she didn't even notice when she plummeted from her perch like a stone.

Impa hastily leaped forward to catch her, but she needn't have bothered. Right before she could fall into her bodyguard's waiting arms, Zelda glowed a near-blinding golden and slowed significantly. Wincing and resisting the urge to shield her eyes, Impa kept her gaze trained on Zelda. The power radiating off of her was so immense yet benign that even the Sheikah warrior felt about as significant as a blade of grass. No—that was being too generous, Impa realized as the power only strengthened, lowering the crying blonde gently into her arms. Next to this power, she was half of a blade of grass at most.

Finally, the glow began to subside along with the searing pain, and Zelda immediately sucked in as much air as she could before it was violently expelled in a shuddering sob. With shouts of panic, guards emerged from all around the castle, rushing to their Princess's aid even though they, too, could feel the sheer might still lingering in the air. Weapons drawn, they skidded to a stop in front of Impa, who was quickly and efficiently checking her charge for injuries, only to lower their weapons in confusion.

"The aura you just felt came from her," Impa informed them briskly. Next on the agenda was to inform them about the golden glow and Zelda's sudden ability to levitate, but the words died in her throat when she finally managed to pull Zelda's right hand away from her chest, where she had cradled it.

A glowing symbol had appeared on Zelda's hand. A symbol that she was quite familiar with.

Three golden triangles were arranged in a stack so that their outer edges formed the shape of another triangle. It was quite a simple mark, really. Just three triangles and a triangle of empty space between them.

Through her shock, Impa managed to absorb the fact that two of the triangles were dim, their light faint and dull, but the third triangle—the one on the bottom left—was shining so brightly that she couldn't look directly at it without her eyes burning.

Somehow, despite not being in danger, otherwise desperately needing help, or coming of age, Zelda had unlocked her birthright: the Triforce of Wisdom.

* * *

"I heard them again," Zelda muttered wistfully from the bed she'd been shooed into by her personal healer. Impa glanced over curiously; the Princess's body had gone slack, including her bandaged hand, and she was no longer crying or even breathing heavily. Indeed, she seemed rather collected, if a bit disgruntled.

Before Impa could suggest in her usual passive-aggressive manner that matters of such importance could sometimes be worded just a _tad_ bit more specifically, Zelda herself seemed to realize how vague she had been. "The green-clothes boy and the other me," she clarified with a smile that was either sheepish or wry; it was hard to tell.

Impa stared incredulously, but did not interrupt. After a slight pause, the blonde girl continued, her voice airy and candid in a way Impa didn't quite know how to describe. "My hand started burning, and then my vision just went gold, and then I saw the other me." At this, she clenched her right fist with a frown, and Impa was reminded of just how agonized that scream had been. "But she just said _'Don't worry, he'll be there soon,'_ and then left."

A slightly dreamy smile crossed her face, and it was hard not to realize when the gold glow of her hand, which had dimmed significantly over the past few hours, brightened again. "And then... everything was still all yellow, but I could sort of see him through it." Eyes sliding closed, she took a deep breath before continuing rather tonelessly. "And I don't know if she was just hiding or what... but the other me must've been there, because she said _'As you bear wisdom, your ally bears courage, and he shall ne'er cross your path who carries the burden of power, for he has been banished by the power of the Gods.'_ "

Her utter lack of enthusiasm or even nerves was astounding as she casually recited the cryptic hint. _"_ And then, for a second, I saw..." She paused, then shivered. "...a man in all black who... laughed." Impa understood what sort of laugh she meant immediately from the highly disturbed look on the girl's face. _'There's the worry,'_ Impa noted approvingly; it would be sad times indeed if ten-year-old girls were just not fazed by things like this. "He turned into an enormous monster, kind of like a Moblin—"

Impa didn't have to stop her: she stopped herself with a confused wrinkle of her nose. "...I... don't know what a Moblin is, but he was definitely kind of like one," she muttered uneasily. In yet another rapid mood swing, though, her face quickly transitioned back into confidence. "He turned into a monster, and then I saw the boy in green kill him, and there was a lot more gold light, and then I heard... this song." Yet another pause. "...I don't remember the tune. And then it just... ended."

Impa was concerned enough by the meat of the story, but it was the last few parts that struck her to silence. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence—Zelda unlocks the Triforce of Wisdom, which shows her a boy and says he'll be there soon, and then that last part... _you bear wisdom, your ally bears courage, he with power has been banished by the Gods..._ She allowed herself to wonder just how much divine intervention was going on here, feeling a bit faint at the answers her brain was handing back to her.

Something very serious was either going to go down... or already had gone down, and was now being prevented from happening again.

She could really use a drink.

* * *

She had never expected to get a chance to impart her future knowledge upon anyone, because almost the whole castle had been informed by her father that whatever she said about prophecies was pish-posh. Honestly, she didn't blame them for believing him: he was the King of Hyrule, after all. But, partly as a joke and partly to humor her, the latest peace envoys being sent out to the other races of Hyrule asked her if she had any prophecies to give them.

Of course, she had been ready to dismiss them with an eye roll and a blunt "Prophecies don't really work that way." Just as she made to do so, though, she felt a slight pain flare up from the back of her hand—she winced, thanking Din that Impa had insisted she begin to wear gloves everywhere—and a bemused voice muttered into her ear, _'Tell them that the Zora princess will throw a fit over her father paying closer attention to Sir Mors than her, Darunia of the Gorons is going to insist they dance for at least three straight hours, a Gerudo woman is going to ask Sir Vimus to come to her personal quarters, and one of the Kokiri is going to tell them that they have to solve a riddle to seek an audience with the Great Deku Tree, but he will be joking.'_ As an afterthought, the voice added, _'Also, warn Sir Mors that he faces grave danger from a purple-flowered plant, and insist he take an antidote with him.'_

It probably wasn't a good thing that these odd, informal prophecies had become so commonplace that Zelda didn't even spare a thought as to who was telling her this and, more importantly, _why._ Although this was the first time the voice had spoken to her so directly, she realized. With a shrug, she relayed the four envoys had laughed good-naturedly, but she had managed to force a reluctant Sir Mors to take a bottle of antidote, no matter how unlikely it seemed that he would need it.

Two weeks later, they returned, Sir Mors with a terrible limp and all four with baffled expressions. "How did you _know?"_ was the first thing Sir Vimus asked her, and she probably could've had him hanged for that—not because he was being disrespectful, but because he was implying that her predictions had come true, and her father would never in a million years stand for that.

But thinking that way was only making anger stew deep inside her, so she just giggled a bit at first, hiding her grin behind her fingers. But her voice and face were both dead serious when she replied, "I told you already. The Triforce of Wisdom speaks to me."

Although she really was being serious, she couldn't help the amusement it brought her to see the soldiers who had doubted her so all gaping at her, mouths hanging open as if they really wanted to say something but had no idea what that thing was.

But then one of the other envoys, looking even more confused than the first three, cleared his throat, catching her attention. "If I may, Your Highness... the Great Deku Tree has asked me to give this to you." He reached carefully into his satchel and removed a vaguely spherical bundle of green cloth which, judging by the way his arms wavered under it, was much heavier than it looked. It was about the size of a grapefruit, and it was more of an oval than a sphere, really, and—without warning, all curiosity and amusement drained from her, replaced with disbelief and awe.

No way. It couldn't be.

"He called it a gift from the Kokiri—well, one of them in particular—and requested that I bring it straight to you... Do you know what the story is?" She didn't blame the soldier for being cautious: it was rather suspicious.

"Yes," was her simple answer as she snatched it from his grip; the give of the cloth indicated that the wrapping made up much of its bulk, only supporting her theory—not that she knew what her theory was. Vigorously, she untangled the folds of forest-green fabric, gave the bundle a shake, and, for some reason, she wasn't even mildly surprised when a huge, vivid green emerald, roughly the same size as a plum and wrapped in tendrils of gold, plopped directly into her palm.

When she shook out the green fabric that had been its wrapping, she found herself holding a tunic that was completely new to her, yet so, so familiar.

After making all four shocked soldiers take an oath of secrecy, she hastily retreated to her quarters, where she hid both the tunic and the first Spiritual Stone, the Kokiri Emerald, under her bed. That night, the warmth that she couldn't quite put a finger on did not leave, even when she dreamed of being stuck inside a tower as it collapsed around her and frantically calling a name she could not for the life of her remember.

* * *

Only once had Impa ever doubted this green-clad hero that Zelda dreamed of so often, and those fears were put to rest that same night when Zelda had awoken from another vague dream. In this particular dream, she had apparently been dressed in royal blue, which seemed to mean something to her, although she didn't say what it meant. Impa hadn't even asked whether or not she was so sure that this green fellow was trustworthy, but her question had been answered anyway.

For the first time, after she finished summarizing her vision, Zelda waited for a long moment, then continued talking. Unlike the matter-of-fact way she presented the dreams, however, her voice this time was slow, deliberate, and oddly emotional.

"This... green-clothed boy..." she began, catching Impa's attention. She paused for another few seconds evidently gathering her words. "...I don't know why, but... I know that he's a hero. I feel like he's already done so much for me, even though I don't even know who he is," she explained. Yet another moment of silence, then—"I trust him," she whispered finally, and the finality in her voice was enough to be worth the wait, because that told Impa more than any other words could. Already, the Sheikah had been fairly certain that this was some form of reincarnation, and this nostalgia and these half-memories just about proved it.

Nothing else was needed after that. Nonetheless, Zelda seemed to assume that her confidant wouldn't understand, because she quickly followed that up with more. "I just... I don't know how to explain it, but... it's like I don't know him, but I _do._ I know him really, really well, even though I've never seen him ..." Here, she looked a bit bashful, but she went on anyway. "I just get this... _warmth,_ and... a sense of security. Like... I know I'm safe if he's there."

_Oh._

Had Impa said that no more words were needed after 'I trust him'?

Because she had been wrong.

"And I know... I don't know _how_ I know, but I _know..._ as long as he has anything to say about it... everything will be alright."

The confidence that suddenly entered her tone then was more than enough to sway the Sheikah, as if she had harbored any doubt after the first 'I trust him'. Unfortunately, the fact that Zelda thought of him in such high regard also confirmed her worries, and she was decidedly _not_ ready for this. She'd thought that she might have at least another five years before she had to deal with it, so she hadn't bothered trying to prepare, and that decision had now come back to bite her in the behind.

As soon as Zelda had retired for the night a second time, Impa wearily treated herself to a drink, wondering which one she should try to find first—the green-clad boy or the ring bearer.

* * *

She didn't know exactly what it was, but she knew that day was going to be her best ever from the moment she rose that morning. Even when her father once again spent the time before breakfast telling her to stop fabricating prophecies, and even when Impa informed her that they would have to stay near the castle today or risk incurring her father's wrath—even then, she couldn't find it in herself to feel upset.

Still, there was an uncontrollable urge building up inside her—she wanted to go to the outside castle courtyard, where she usually went when she was upset to listen in on her father's meeting (that always calmed her for some reason). And, despite not feeling upset at all, she followed her instincts and headed there, nodding cordially to all the guards she passed.

The entire day was abuzz with anticipation. She scarcely cared that her father was getting less and less likely to believe her when she predicted something incredibly important. Right now, everything could be awful, but she just knew—like she had known that she trusted the boy in green; she didn't know what was triggering these feelings, she just _knew_ —that, by the time the sun set today, everything would be as it should be.

If any of the guards noticed her inordinate excitement, they didn't let it show. Nonetheless, she thought they must have seen, because she had practically skipped her way to the inner gardens when she usually had her shoulders slumped and feet dragging if she was upset enough to seek refuge there. Eventually, she made it, and, honestly, how had she never noticed how beautiful this garden was. Even the normally droll gray of the castle stone brought a radiant smile to her face today.

She didn't know how long she just stood there. Usually, unless she was in a bad mood, she couldn't just stand in place; she had to be moving, even when she was listening attentively to her father's meetings through the inner courtyard window. Now, though, she was such a perfect mixture of excited and at peace that she was able to simply stand there, knowing ( _and_ _again with the things she just somehow knew_ ) that something good was coming up; something so wonderful that she shouldn't dare to focus on anything but it.

It was hard to describe the feeling she was getting, because there were two of them. There was a sort of ecstasy and a fluttering in the pit of her stomach; a flush on her cheeks and a tinge of anxiety that she was going to do something, _anything_ wrong and make a fool of herself. And then, in the back of her mind, where she had kept all those strange emotions passed on through the Triforce of Wisdom, there was something... more. This was just a light contentedness: the desire to make someone happy and the knowledge that said person would do the same for her, all backed up with that same warmth she had almost grown accustomed to.

She heard the boots as they slowly clomped up behind her, but she didn't experience the usual panic that might have accompanied the realization that someone was behind her and it certainly wasn't a guard. She only felt more of that pleasant feeling swelling up in her chest; moving out from the back of her mind to the forefront. Then, there was a cut-off intake of breath; a sort of choked gasp. Something clattered noisily to the ground, and she wondered briefly why no soldiers had come to check on the racket.

But that didn't matter right now.

"Zel...da?"

Even if she had been more experienced with reading into the tones of voices, Zelda would never have been able to identify the mood of the speaker. There was distress and horror, but hope and awe. An intense sort of affection, yet a slight tinge of wariness. And, over everything else, an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and confusion. It was evident that he had no more idea why he was here than she did. But that did nothing to make the sudden feeling of safety that washed over her abate.

Hardly daring to breathe, Zelda turned around and saw him.

 _Things flowed back to her almost quicker than she could stand it, flooding her mind with countless memories and cramming knowledge and wisdom alike into her eleven-year-old brain. Her Triforce symbol on her hand was glowing brightly enough to show clearly through the gloves she always wore to hide it, but instead of a burning pain, it was a static-like sensation that quickly traveled up to her heart. She found herself trembling not with pain this time, but with pure relief. A sudden strength surged into her_ — _a strength no true eleven-year-old would know; a strength she had borrowed from the man who was eleven, but might as well have been eighteen like she was._

Vaguely, she registered that Link was in front of her, looking just about as stunned as she did. A hundred faint memories of speaking softly in her own ear, helping herself out where she remembered wanting someone to help, faded into the background, as did a sudden influx of memories from a childhood that was not her own. Mere seconds ago—seven years from now, in fact—they had been standing together, the notes of the Song of Time luring them into a trance, and now—

Wait, no—it was all coming back to her. Now that she focused on it, sorting out her own memories and those of this timeline's version of her was surprisingly easy. The space between her departure from her own world and now was still hazy, but that didn't matter much at the moment, because—Din, please let me be seeing properly here—

Yes, he was most definitely there, staring vacantly at her face, looking so much younger but somehow maintaining the same noble aura. His dazed expression quickly faded, overtaken by a look of joy that could rival the expression of any newlywed—his hand had begun to shine brightly as well—and, before she knew it, he was hurling himself in her general direction, arms outstretched.

By all means, the sudden movements should have startled her, but she had proved lately that reacting to things in a logical manner wasn't exactly her forte. So she simply lunged forward, catching him with an unladylike whoop of excitement, and then they wrapped their arms around each other's backs in the tightest embrace ever shared within the boundaries of Hyrule.

That was when the warmth pulsed across her, stronger than ever, and, this time, she knew full well why she felt so safe.

At the surge of power that exploded from the two, guards came running, spears drawn, ready to protect their future Queen, but Impa was faster. It took her mere moments to appraise the situation and yell "Stand down!"; the guards were by no means obligated to listen to her, but they generally did anyway, and this time was no exception. Especially since, now that they looked closer, the intruder and their Princess were _hugging._

When they finally drew away, it was hard to tear her eyes away from his face, but she did so anyway, letting out a breathless little laugh at the incredulous looks that the various guards were shooting their way. Turning to face Impa, who immediately noticed something different—back straight and dignified, chin up, but posture still somewhat tense, as if expecting a dagger to the back—she smiled, laughing again.

"I found him," she said.

Impa took one look at the ecstasy on their faces, how they were practically struck breathless just by being in each other's presence, and thought, with some mixture of pride and horror, that she had better work on finding that ring bearer.


End file.
